A Curious Courting (23 page)

When Mr. Rushton was ushered into the drawing room, Selina knew a moment’s embarrassment as his eyes rested on her in surprise, and then he grinned appreciatively. She had chosen the rose silk as the lesser of two evils, and had pinned a cameo brooch where the neckline dipped most grievously. Fortunately, she was not aware that this tactic served merely to draw the eye exactly where she did not wish. He was himself dressed more formally than she had previously seen him, having discarded his pantaloons or buckskins for cream knee-breeches, his riding coat for a longtailed blue coat of superfine with gold buttons. His cravat was elaborately arranged, which in turn elicited an amused glance from Selina, knowing that his valet was in no position to have contrived it for his master.

“I trust the downpour did not trouble you, Mr. Rushton,” she said as she extended her hand.

“Not in the least. I would have weathered a blizzard for such a treat,” he assured her as he pressed her hand.

“I have scrutinized the menu to prevent its including any fowls’ feet or calves’ ears, so I believe we can promise you no dishes which must be consigned to Scamp.”

“That was not precisely what I meant, but never mind. How is your dog? Recovered from her scratches?”

“Yes, but it will take longer to restore her dignity. She is there under the sofa, but she won’t even come out to eat most of the time.”

Rushton could see a furry tail thumping beneath the sofa and he crouched down and called, “Come, Scamp,” in his most peremptory voice. A black nose poked out inquisitively and he snapped his fingers. Scamp came bounding out and rushed at him in a frenzy of delight. Heedless of his consequence and his hose, she jumped on his muscular legs. With a muttered oath, he instructed her to sit, which she did, slavishly gazing up at him, but not before she had managed to snag his immaculate white stockings in her descent.

“Serves you right,” Selina said softly.

“No one in this house has any respect for authority,” he retorted.

“How can you say that? Scamp came when you called and sat when you told her to. I do not generally even allow her in company, you know, and would have put her in my room had I known you would insist on encouraging her.”

Henry came forward to interject himself into what appeared well on its way to becoming another quarrel between the two of them. “Shall I put her in the library, Selina?”

“Not on my account,” Rushton protested before Selina could speak.

Dinner was announced before any further discussion could be held, and Selina allowed Rushton to take her in on his arm. She was seated at the head of the table with the two men on either side of her. Determined to reverse the prevailing atmosphere, Selina smiled at her guest and said, “I think you will find, Mr. Rushton, that the stream which runs through the vale, for all its meager size, will provide you with some decent fishing.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Trout, I suppose?”

“Yes and some grayling. Henry has always had the most incredible success as an angler.”

Happy to be on a neutral topic, Henry offered his observations on the fishing, and the two men discussed the subject for some time. When they left off, Rushton exerted himself to be charming, as he had on the previous occasion when he had dined with Selina, and she decided that all that was needed to improve his disposition was a good meal. For Henry’s benefit, he described Astley’s Royal Amphitheater and the Four-in-Hand Club, for Selina’s, the entertainments at Covent Garden, Drury Lane and Vauxhall. He had amusing anecdotes to tell them of people they had read about, and a knowledge of politics which indicated his close association with powerful figures in the government. His monopoly of the conversation was not offensive, as his listeners plied him with enthusiastic questions and remarks on his more astonishing revelations.

Selina rose at last to say, “Be leisurely over your port, gentlemen. I shall be in the green drawing room.”

Although Henry would willingly have joined her immediately, Rushton chose to keep the lad with him for a small foray into information-seeking. “Your cousin is looking charming this evening, Henry. One would think her gown came straight from London, and yet I am sure she has told me that she has not recently been there.”

“Straight from Leicester,” Henry laughed, as he recalled the scene in Mrs. Armstrong’s shop, “yesterday. Poor Selina! She literally had nothing to wear for a formal dinner. We’ve not gone anywhere or had anyone in for as long as I can remember. Other than tea, that is. And she was very silly about the low necklines, but I told her they were just the thing. I was right, wasn’t I? Ladies do wear such low gowns, don’t they?” he asked anxiously.

“Oh, decidedly.” Rushton took a sip from the glass he was twirling between his fingers. “They don’t even wear cameo brooches to…ah... disguise the fact. Is your cousin as retiring when you go to one of the watering holes?”

“Well, no, not really. Usually, Mrs. Morrow comes with us to act as Selina’s chaperone, but we don’t go out much in the evenings. Sometimes to a play or a concert, you know. Selina used to tell me she liked to dance, but I don’t remember her going to any assemblies. I think she always wanted to include me in her excursions. But I didn’t use to realize that, you understand. At Shalbrook, we do lots of things together and I didn’t think much of it when we went on holiday. Next time I shall insist that she enjoy herself and not stick to me. I’ve been abominably selfish, I can see now, but I didn’t know before,” Henry admitted, shamefaced.

“She wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t want to.”

Henry was not cheered by this reflection. “That’s only partially true, though. Selina is a pretty woman. She should have married by now, and I have no doubt she would have, had it not been for me. Those years when she should have been caught up in the social whirl, she was reading to me and helping me learn to walk again. Now that I am old enough to understand, she’s on the shelf. That doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

Nearly choking on his wine, Rushton murmured a noncommittal reply.

“Shall we join her? If she’s in the green drawing room, then we can convince her to play for us, as the pianoforte is there. She’s rather good, I think, and she has all the latest music sent from London.”

Selina was already playing when they entered, but she stopped and rose.

“No, do play for us if you will,” Rushton urged.

“Come and choose something you like, then. Nothing is more boring than hearing the player’s favorites.” She indicated a stack of music from which Rushton diplomatically chose the most worn sheets as likely to be those she not only enjoyed playing but played the best. God only knew if Henry had an ear for music.

Rushton needn’t have worried. Her performance was far better than he generally heard in drawing rooms where mothers would insist on showing off their daughters’ minimal skills. Several times she sang as well, in a clear sonorous voice. When Henry joined her, it was obvious that they often amused themselves this way, for they were blatantly unaware of their audience, caught up in the music. It provided an opportunity for Rushton to study Selina without her noticing, something he had little chance to do. Not as beautiful as Miss Longmead, to be sure, but much more animated. Not as haughty, but with an inherent regard for her position. More than that, a self-esteem based on something beside the accident of her birth. And eyes that laughed rather than snapped with intolerance and condescension. Miss Easterly-Cummings’ anger was a spark of emotion, not the cold lash of disdain Miss Longmead summoned to her service.

There was the other side of the coin, however. Miss Easterly-Cummings
was
an emotional, opinionated, eccentric lady. To be sure, she kept her emotions under control most of the time, and her opinions were largely in agreement with his own, but it could be exhausting to be around such a woman for lengthy periods of time. Knowing that she felt things deeply would not make for an ease of mind in those around her. One would have to be on one’s guard not to upset or hurt her. No such problem arose with Miss Longmead, whose self-conceit shielded her from slings and arrows of any description.

And there was the matter of social aplomb. Miss Longmead—all the Misses Longmeads who graced London Society—understood the London conventions, and would not for a moment have contemplated oversetting them in any way. They were trained, like good hunting dogs, to do their job as members of the
ton.
Born and bred to a life in the highest circles, one could depend on them never to discompose one. The same could hardly be said of Miss Easterly-Cummings: totally unfamiliar with London, probably uncaring for the stiff formality which reigned there. The trouble was that Miss Easterly-Cummings had lived so long secluded, in the most modest country circles, that she had developed a definite style of her own. Rushton did not doubt for a moment that she could mold herself to his circles…if she wished to. But it seemed cruel even to contemplate changing her, asking her to conform to a different mode simply because it happened to be the accepted one. What had he told her? That there were many acceptable behaviors? Well, that was true enough, but to tamper with the girl’s spirit…

Eccentric. Was it merely an act? In some ways, of course, it had been. She had easily left behind the strange costume in which she had first met him. But she had not even had an evening dress to wear tonight! What other lady of his acquaintance would ever have been caught in such a situation? And it wasn’t just the clothes. She had obviously been raised in some ways as a boy would be—given freedom, urged to a responsible attitude toward her dependents, taught to think for herself—to make decisions, to wield authority, to believe in her ability to manage for herself. How could you make a good wife out of such material? You might as well write “obey” out of the marriage ceremony. Possibly “honor” as well. “Love”? Rushton allowed his eyes to dwell on the animated face, the curls which were almost too tight because of the damp weather, the slender shoulders, the provocative figure. Oh, if she loved you, everything else would pale into insignificance. Her loyalty, her deep attachments, her sensitivity could not be doubted. Rushton sighed as the closing notes of the song filled the room. He had never before seriously contemplated a love-match.

“I’m sure that’s more than enough music for Mr. Rushton,” Selina said with amusement. “I think he’s about to fall asleep on us, Henry. Shall we enliven his evening with some three-handed whist? Or would you prefer quinze, Mr. Rushton?”

“Whist will be fine, but I promise you I enjoyed every moment of the concert.” He led her to the table set by the window, where the storm outside could be heard more clearly. “Will this occasion you more flooding?”

“I do hope not, but it’s a possibility. We’ve moved the families from any of the endangered cottages, and I’m hoping the measures Lord John suggested will be effective. At least this will provide us with an opportunity to test them. Will you deal, sir?”

Rushton dealt their hands, but he found it difficult to keep his eyes and his mind from straying to her. She played thoughtfully, her face expressive of her reactions to her cards.

When she caught him staring at her he commented, “I think you would not be good at gambling, Miss Easterly-Cummings. Your face shows far too much.”

“Henry says that, too, but I fool him sometimes.”

“She’s very subtle,” Henry complained. “When she taught me brag, she completely fooled me. I was so used to her giving herself away that I completely muffed it. I know better now.”

“Ah, I see. Your cousin can resort to her acting ability when she chooses,” Rushton suggested.

Henry flushed at this allusion to his scene, but Selina patted his hand and laughed. “It all depends on how determined I am to win, Mr. Rushton. When Henry gets cocky, I am especially devious.”

Recovering quickly, Henry said, “When we finish this hand let Selina try her skill at brag against you. I think she will astonish you.”

“She frequently does,” Rushton murmured, as he played a card. “I should like to match wits with her.”

“A challenge!” Selina declared mischievously. “I accept, Mr. Rushton.”

Within minutes the two were examining their cards while Henry looked on, alternating his gaze from one to the other. Rushton’s face was totally impassive, while Selina’s was more mobile, but Henry was not deceived. His cousin could be as misleading with her expressions as she was with an unmoved countenance. At first Rushton seemed duped by her wide eyes and quirked brows, but gradually he accustomed himself to her tricks and began a strategy of his own. He frankly allowed his eyes to caress her face until he could see the pulse beating in her throat. When she accidentally discarded two cards she had meant to keep, she protested shakily, “Your acting is far better than mine, Mr. Rushton. Let’s have the supper tray in. There is surely no need for us to continue to prove that you are the winner.” So discomposed that a nervous gesture made several of her cards fall to the floor, she bent over to retrieve them, only to feel their hands touch as he assisted her. His face was close to hers and as their eyes met she was reminded of nothing so much as his kiss of the previous day. And she could have sworn that he was remembering it, too. She straightened, a little out of breath, and turned to her cousin. “Would you ring for the tray, Henry?”

Mystified by the silent undercurrents, Henry did as he was bid with a perplexed shake of his head. “I think you were not at your best tonight, Selina. You had better cards than Rushton, you know. Perhaps you’re tired.”

“Not in the least,” she said stiffly as she caught a glimpse of Rushton’s laughing eyes.

“I shall allow her a rematch sometime when she’s up to it,” he offered generously.

“You are too kind,” she retorted sweetly, waving a fan before her warm cheeks, “but I am willing to concede that you play brag better than I, which is as it should be. How is your valet after his accident?” Selina smiled at her adversary with mocking eyes.

Rushton darted a questioning glance at Henry, who shrugged helplessly. “Victor has very little discomfort, though he will be unable to use his hands for a few weeks.”